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- Poetry > Free Verse
Words feel foreign on my tongue, as though they are a strange contraband that is novel to my lips I try and speak and instead taste apathy, atrophy. I wither away into a butterfly’s cocoon The silk that surrounds me is tauntingly thin. I can just barely see the rise of the sun, hear t... - Fiction > Sci-fi/FantasyAn old man walks north under shape-shifting clouds of dark grey. He bares his teeth against the sharp wind and frosty rain. He struggles to maintain his grip on the slippery base of his black umbrella. The skin of his right hand is raw and chapped, while his left stays warm in his coat pocket. In hi...
- Poetry > Free VerseI. clouds travel across their cobalt blue fortress at a gluttonous pace, as if they have just finished a particularly large and succulent meal of rice pudding and chicken pot pie II. what was just my car is now a high-security asylum for a schizophrenic moth riddled with half-hearted h...
- Poetry > Free Verselove blossoms in the hollow of my chest and it grows and it rounds, until it is the moon floating along in an intergalactic marathon to the apples of my cheeks, ruby red like their namesake, 'til it travels to my lips, and pulls at their corners with spaceship marionette strings, and on a gravi...
- Poetry > Free VerseYears went by of internal turmoil and unquestioned pain and praying to god and sub-par living and struggling to find what was right or good and trying to shun what was tempting or wrong and doing your best to be a martyr and a saint and everything in between so no one would bother you ...
- Poetry > Free VerseSatisfaction arrives expected on my porch step, and he raps his fist against the white door of my spine. He waits, impatient, for me to let him in so he can offer me his sugarcoated gifts. As he rings the doorbell, my nerve endings sing, buzzing and humming with Beethoven’s fifth. I fish ...
- Nonfiction > Personal ExperienceIt was autumn, I was in ninth grade, and I was walking home from the bus stop. I inhaled deeply, savoring the fleeting scent of falling leaves. It would be winter soon enough and thinking about numb toes and ice-cold bus seats made me crave my dog-eared copy of Cat's Cradle and the shelter of my bla...
